100 years after the Second Wizarding War, and the Death Eaters are back. Hogwarts, newly rebuilt, has to muster a new courage, for the game has changed. A new story is rising. It's a new Age, a new Life and a new Generation. It's time for a Revolution.

Shivering in the Night [Sorrow]

The music and laughter faded into a quiet hum the farther into the castle Eleonora strolled. Her dress rustled along the stone floors as her heels clicked to the tempo of her walking. Dressing up and entering the Great Hall for the ball had been a mistake. If she hadn't been forced to make an appearance and keep an eye on the behavior of the students she would have been curled up in her office with a glass of wine and a book. Instead here she was, fleeing the scene with a tight chest.

It had been all too much for her to handle in the dazzling white beauty of the Great Hall. Everyone around her was smiling and talking, laughing alongside their friends and dates. She had given strained smiles to the students of her house and the ones she recognized from her class. As the time wore on though her heart began to race and her body started to feel warm. The candles and fairy lights around her started to blur and spin. She squeezed her eyes tight to regain her balance. When her eyes reopened to the glare of the the room she knew she had to get out, if only to stop herself from panic.

She stopped her hurried retreat in the courtyard, struck by the beauty of the fading day. Candles were placed out here too, but their light was subdued, swallowed up in vastness of the air around them. Eleonora breathed a sigh of relief as the grip around her lungs loosened and her head cleared. She slipped out of the heels that were blistering her tender feet and onto the cold stone. The shock of its temperature ran through her legs and caused her to shiver. Only then did she realize the freezing breeze of the night. Her bare arms rose in goose bumps as she cursed herself for not having a coat. The dress she had chosen to wear that night had no sleeves, the deep indigo fabric falling loosely around her small frame.

As she pressed her body into the stone railing Eleonora sighed. She could breath clearly here in cold air. The sky was darkening all around, blushed pinks and purples were dissolving into the navy and black that would soon engulf the whole sky. The sun was sinking fast into the horizon with only a sliver of its light illuminating the grounds spread far beyond her. There was a sharp chill in the air and a hush to the night. Eleonora gazed into the clouds churning ever closer to the school from out of the already dark portion of the sky. The clouds held within them the forming of the snow that would surely fall before long.

Sorrow was late to the ball, accidentally on purpose. He had been putting off going, even though his professor status demanded his presence in the hall. He had spent long hours thinking about showing, as shadows in his chamber grew ever darker, until finally he understood that he could not. He had not forgotten the Headmistress of Durmstrang, or what she had done. Even under normal circumstances he would have found it hard not to be unnerved by the dark aura of one Aries Lestrange.

And these were not normal circumstances.

For the sake of his sanity, his mind had refused to listen to the anger he was sure to feel upon seeing her; and instead of taking a turn towards the Great Hall, Sorrow had rounded a corner to find himself on a way outside. The cold evening air offered much needed relief, but it only glided along the surface of nerves that needed soothing. There was no one left in Hogwarts that could offer comfort, it seemed. Yet perhaps he would find peace in solitude, and calm in the healing energy of one of the greenhouses. If he gave himself to work with the plants, the night would surely pass by quicker. After, in the event that Headmistress Naer found it unacceptable, he would try and answer for his absence.

He was halfway across the courtyard when he saw her; soft shoulders exposed to the sharp chill and the red flame falling over them in gentle curls. There was a shimmer around her, despite the darkening sky, and Sorrow paused in step only to change direction again. Eleonora stood with his back to him, but he had no doubt that it was her, for just as the fire drew him to its embrace so did she.

The wind reminded him of danger, and the setting sun sent its rays to sing to him: not again. Like once long ago, she was light, and light was what he could never have. So calling out to her was a mistake, and Sorrow might as well have gone to rather face Aries. So often goodness lured him like candlelight lured moths, it was a small wonder that he was still alive. “Miss Valenta.”

On the wind floated a smooth voice, two simple words to cut through the muted music and chatter. The syllables that reached Eleonora's ears were like a line cast out into the turbulent waters of a storm, drawing her into safety from her far away thoughts. She had not heard the careful tones and syncopations for some time but she knew without a doubt who they belonged to. Every nerve in her body urged her to spin around with a beam of happiness but her mind kept her limbs still as she thought. How often she had wanted to hear his voice to ease her mind, as it had so easily done once before. Once or twice she had even traced the steps from her office to his classroom, in the off chance she would run into his shadowed form. It was silly and she always hated herself for it, but nonetheless her feet took her where they willed.

So it was with trepidation that all of her actions would play out on her face that she turned to face the one whose voice had twice interrupted her solitude. She felt foolish in her dress and bare feet, her hair carefully tamed to curl down her back. This was not the girl she had presented herself as previously, in the forest. That girl was earth and stone, at one with nature. This one, her lips painted a slight red in the darkening night, was an imposter she was sure Sorrow would see through. Aware that her bare arms glinted in the candlelight she nervously crossed them in an effort to warm herself as much as to hide the scars that littered them.

“Professor Grace,” the words felt wrong on her tongue. They tasted of metal and reminded her of the formal relationship she held with this man, the one who drew her in so easily. Without her shoes on she felt so small next to him, like he could drape his cloak over her and she would disappear. Maybe she would, maybe that was in her fate. She chanced a look up into his eyes and at once knew she should not have. A wave of dizziness swept over her again, a vestige of her attack in the Great Hall. She swayed, held her hand out to steady herself.

When her vision returned to normal she gave an apologetic smile to Sorrow. Great, she looked a fool now more than ever. She had best explain herself before he took her for what she was afraid she was; nothing but a scared woman lost amongst the crowd.

“The heat and noise in the hall were getting to me, I can breathe a little better out here.” She self-consciously ran her hand through her mass of curls, trying to tame them down. It dawned on her then that she had not seen Sorrow in the midst of people at the ball. Maybe he was trying to escape, as well.

“Was it too much for you, too? It's very...bright...in there.” Should she have said that? The last thing Eleonora wanted to do was offend Sorrow but she was curious and of course worried over his well being.

In the silence that followed his calling out to her, Sorrow inched closer; gently stepping across flat stone, nearly gliding over it as he moved. She did not turn to face him immediately, making it seem as if he were unwelcome perhaps, for when Eleonora’s eyes set upon him they were a mask he could not read. There was more to this new face in fact, though for a moment he thought it had been a trick of poor light. But indeed her lips gleamed an unnatural red, and it took a moment of confusion for him to realize they had been painted with the same fire as the hairs that curled around the soft of her cheeks.

Her voice sounded strange in his ears, as if hers was not the voice he expected to hear. Sorrow transferred his gaze to the gentle blue of her eyes, from the lips where it had lingered a moment too long. They were not the proper shade, not as he recalled it, because the blue should have held hints of green. Then again, perhaps Eleonora was not the one whose eyes burned so brightly in his mind. The wind called out to Sorrow again, a symphony of whispers this time, as he wondered what it was that brought on the memory after quite so long.

There was nothing about Eleonora that reminded him about or spoke in secret about her. But if there had been alarm in his eyes at the thought, Sorrow hid it without blinking. He shook the heavy cloak off his shoulders and draped it around hers. It was sure to fall loosely around her smaller frame and so it did, but Sorrow used the short pause to carefully consider the words with which he would reply.

“I have yet to make my appearance in the hall. I would rather choose not to.” He did not give a reason for his choice, and probably would not if she asked. The decision wrapped firmly around his mind, as if he should have thought to be careful sooner than her eyes gave warning. And yet he felt suddenly shamed, for the smile that played on her lips was surely not as harmful as he feared. They drew him in, the tiny gestures and the flame. But the fire was merely an illusion. He had watched for it a long time, but that was all. There was someone else by his side through all that time.

“Please forgive my intrusion, Professor. I had not thought- well, to escape noise is one thing, and yet I cast it back upon you.” His brow furrowed as he further examined the wonder with which she touched him. And he spoke again, unthinkingly, just as his mind sent words to slip off his tongue. “I would rather if you kept the coat however, it is quite cold.” Finally, as it replayed again and again, he had been on his way to- somewhere else. Why had he stopped? Eleonora stood before him, the dress hidden away in blackness of his own cloak. The darkness sent shades to play in the clouded grey of his eyes.

She must have thought him rude, for he was both a stranger and not, pushed together in one short moment. Worse even, for he looked upon her as if he expected someone else in her place, someone who did know him thoroughly and had seen his tears. Sorrow did not try to fight it; he kept standing like a figure made in stone until finally he could look at her no more. His eyes cast away in the faraway night, and apology found way to his lips. “I should- I do apologise. I must not be seeing clearly tonight.”

Eleonora listened to Sorrow's words, only half comprehending. The way he was speaking tonight was halting, not nearly as flowing as she had remembered. She tried to follow but it proved difficult. Maybe there was something bothering him? Eleonora would of course listen with an open heart if he chose to divulge his troubles onto her but she would not pry. His reasons for avoiding the ball were his alone and she respected that.

When Sorrow reached out to her to place his cloak around her bare shoulders Eleonora took an instinctive step back. Her previous thoughts of disappearing within it flashed through her mind before she pushed them away for their foolishness. The cloak was a dull pressure pulling her shoulders downward, extra gravity to drag her down. It did little to warm her for the residual heat she expected from Sorrow's body was not present. The coat could have just been picked up from the cold benches around her. The surprise was only momentary as she then noticed the smell wafting up into her senses. His cloak smelled of soil and growing things, a hint of mint and some flowers she could not place. Eleonora breathed in deep to inhale the full aroma. It was intoxicating.

She tore her attention away from the smell of the cloak and considered pulling it off. If she was wearing Sorrow's cloak wouldn't he be cold? She wouldn't want that. But, if he had offered it to her would she be rude to give it back so quickly? Every possible conclusion to her actions played through her head as she stared not at Sorrow's eyes but at a spot high on his chest where her eyes naturally fell if she did not look up.

When she did look up into his eyes she saw something there that was out of place. She could not attach it to words or an emotion, but this was not the way he had looked at her in the forest. It made her uncomfortable, like he was looking through her and out into the grounds beyond. Eleonora felt like suddenly she didn't exist.

Instead of facing the fears she felt that were mirrored back at her in Sorrow's gray eyes she looked down to her bare feet. She wiggled her toes, trying to restore the feeling in them. God, what is wrong with me tonight? she thought. This has nothing to do with me and I am being foolish like always with people. Eleonora watched as her toes moved slightly on the stone pathway. Perhaps Sorrow was just having a bad day, like she was, or perhaps she was thinking too much into dull way his eyes took her in.

What had so expected, anyway? A smile and a look of delight in his gray eyes? Another foolish hope on her part, to be sure. Why would he have those for her, someone he had met but once? Had it been so long since Eleonora had felt any spark of emotion towards someone that she had forgotten how painful being wrong could be?

Sorrow's words brought her out of her reverie as he apologized for something Eleonora was uncertain of. He had nothing to apologize for in her mind. She was the one whose behavior was unacceptable. She did not even turn her chin up to look at him yet, still too embarrassed of her girlish feelings.

It was then that the music that had been gently rolling in from the Great Hall increased in volume. Eleonora could now clearly make out the melody; the dancing must have started. The rhythm was like a trigger to her, and caused her to laugh out loud into the night. Here she was, sad and self conscious for some arbitrary reason that probably only mattered to herself. This was a ball and she should be enjoying herself. Eleonora was so tired of taking the time to think through all of her words and actions and hoping for the best that all it took to make her see how unnecessary it was was the thought of so many normal people in the Great Hall having a good time.

“I'm sorry, Professor Grace. I must look crazy about now but I can't help it. I've been over thinking so much that I just...it's too funny. I'm a fool and it doesn't matter does it? It doesn't matter and I've spent so much time worrying!” Eleonora was laughing in earnest now, tears threatening to roll down her checks from her mirth. It was funny. It was also funny that she was spewing all of this out to Sorrow who she figured couldn't care less.

She looked up into Sorrow's eyes again then, now not caring what she saw there. Her eyes were bright with her laughter and her lips in a wide grin. Tonight, just tonight, I'm done shackling myself for others sake. Maybe it was the long unfelt feeling the laughter brought and maybe it was the boldness she was slowing gaining from her position here at Hogwarts, but Eleonora felt right in the moment, a feeling she had not known was still in her. She was going to throw caution to the wind and just enjoy herself.

The chill kept biting at him, allowing no escape from the faraway dream. She had loved the cold, she told him once. They had been in this very courtyard, on an afternoon sugared with the whiteness of snow, and her golden locks had played underneath one of her funny hats. He could not recall a conversation, and perhaps they had spent most of the time rather enjoying the sound of silence. But her presence had been one of healing and ever so enchanting. She had been real in his life, though sometimes he had surely doubted it. And then after last year, she had been silent in his mind. Sorrow had known nothing of her whereabouts and it had seemed to be better that way. It was easier not to ask questions when last time he saw her he had made her cry. After that, she can’t have wanted to see him.

The familiar tune shattered the memory with intrusion of another; just a couple of years ago he had danced to that same melody, a past Yule Ball took place. That time he had been less reluctant to attend, and had agreed to go with a champion friend; Alexandra had been chosen that year. Now it seemed like such a long time ago. They had thought that they knew everything, and yet their hearts were still so innocent, only shallowly aware of the dangers that lurked behind the mighty walls of Hogwarts. Now, Calm was in flight with a letter addressed to Alexandra. He had wronged her too and it was high time Sorrow found her and apologised.

And another that he was being unfair to stood right before him. Her laugh must have broken through that unseen enchantment as it filled the barrier between herself and him. It blew away the clouds and as Sorrow cast upon her his eyes of clear grey, his own lips played at a smile. “I am not quite certain what you are, Eleonora, but foolish you are certainly not.” Perhaps it was a slip of tongue that he had not noticed, but Sorrow did not correct himself in mention of her first name, with no title to precede or follow it.

A dance was requested of him, one to carry away the worry. One dance, surely, could bring no harm to them. “Dare we share the first dance of the champions?” They must have been anything but; in any case, Sorrow had little cause to feel like a champion. He had wanted to bring warmth and wrap it around the days of winter. When everything seemed dead and cold, hearts must have stayed together and reconnected, for those were most often times that gave birth to sorrow and misery. They would fight through it. They had been fighting all this time, and to give up now would do them no good at all. The pause in their voices had to be seen not as a tragedy, but as bliss when after long they sang again.

“I shall humbly oblige, if that is what you wish. For the course of our dance, please,” Sorrow held out his hand to her, the other at his back as he gave a proper bow. “I would be only Sorrow.” The cursed name made him feel exposed, as if he had unconsciously gone and revealed himself in direct sunlight. It burned him to the core, as he allowed his given name be used at the liberty of her lips. It was an odd sign of trust, possibly not even visible to human heart, but very clearly outlined in his own. It held his family, friends and a past lover. It now admitted Eleonora at its gates as well, once more waging the certainty and fear of letting someone else in. But as Sorrow felt it, he thought it lighter, less troubling than before. He could have set up one or one thousand borders, remained truthful to his training and detached himself of feeling; and still the human emotion would fascinate him. It was bright and alive, and sad and dark, and it was everything around him. How could he ever hope to escape it?

The music played on as Eleonora reached out and took Sorrow's hand, stepping closer to him. Now the smell that was imbedded in his cloak was coming at her from his body as well and she couldn’t help but close her eyes and picture the greenhouses full of light and life. The image made her smile and she opened her eyes again. They caught in the candles and flickered. She no longer felt the cold burrowing into her bones but instead a warmth spreading out from her core.

It felt good to be unafraid and Eleonora wondered why she wasn't more often. Fear of people and their reactions to her had been instilled into her since she was young and habits are a hard thing to break.

As their motions melded into the music Eleonora let her eyes roam over Sorrow's features, now so very close. His porcelain skin was unmarked and could have been carved by the most prestigious sculptor for all its perfectly formed angles and curves. It was also dark, though, and she could feel the familiar sense of danger lurking just below the surface of his cool demeanor. The way his eyes shied away from the flickering light, the ease with which his feet seemed to glide from one darkened spot to another with her in tow; it all reminded her just what she was dealing with.

At the ministry she had be told and taught about the dangers certain beings and creatures held to the human populace. Eleonora had always thought these warnings were cruel and blanketing. Not every individual was an example of a whole, and a majority was not always correct. She would rather judge on a case by case basis, and so far in her life it had worked. She had been able to find the goodness and love in each creature she had come across, from the smallest flutterby to the dragon she had once had the opportunity to view. As she made her way back to Sorrow's eyes she knew he would not be the exception.

“Sorrow? Is it ok if I ask you a question? It's personal, so please don't answer it if it's too much...and I really don't mean to be rude.” Eleonora's clear eyes were locked inquisitively onto his, her questions burning into them. “It's just...well, are you happy? Here, I mean? I...I hear what some of my students whisper about you sometimes. Its unfair and ignorant and I told them I won't tolerate it...but, you must be very strong to be able to teach on despite it.” Her next words came out in a rush as red the color of her lips raced her up cheeks. “It's just I was worried, you know? About you. I-I'm not sure its my place, but...”

Eleonora stopped her words then. Was it too much? She just wanted him to know she knew what he was and did not hold any preconceived notions about how he would act. It was also true, that was was worried. Hogwarts didn't seem like the best place for one such as he and Eleonora had a love for all beings and creatures and Sorrow fit into that like any other. Perhaps a bit more.

Biting her lower lip in anticipation of Sorrow's answer, Eleonora hoped he wouldn't get offended and leave her standing alone in the cold.

The touch of flame heightened the senses he was usually careful to control; her scent, most intense, but sweet with a hint of spice. It could have been hidden under lingering whiffs of Polaris or Vega, and then some. Eleonora must have worked with many creatures in her time; still she tasted fresh as he breathed her in. A short image of leaves tangled in the bright red hair left his eyes searching for ashes. There were none. One hand of long fingers led hers, the other rested gently at her waist. Strange how she fitted him, or would if her smaller body drew closer to his.

He was aware of her watching him, and slowly his gaze drew over her features. Gentle lines curled around the blue of her eyes and glided down the small nose. Sorrow never truly understood the concept of beauty; he simply found people beautiful or not, more often than not depending on how they acted. And there was a shine around some people, the truly good. Lacetta had worn it in her innocence and in her smile. He thought perhaps that it was slowly revealing itself to him in Eleonora as well.

With a small nod of his head, he let the question appear on her lips. However it took him more than a moment to reply, as it was an unexpected thought, something he had not truly considered in all his time at Hogwarts. He was always aware that there were people who disliked him; with the position he once held in his clan it was sure to be so. But he never thought he let it bother him much, at least, he hoped he had not. It was basic training to detach oneself from the despising word, keeping an ear out in order to keep a safe position, but peeling away from it emotionally.

“I would not have come back to Hogwarts if I felt it held no place to me,” he decided on saying. Ignorance came from lack of knowledge, and perhaps it was Sorrow’s own fault that he had not revealed some of the important facts. He understood how thought of a vampire among humans could be cause for alarm, and so far many students had not been made aware of Sorrow’s origin. He should have expected that to change when he took the position of a professor; and he worried more that they now feared him more than they should. For when he did take the position as their teacher, he had also become their guardian in a way. He would never do anything to hurt those kids.

The problem must have been in blood; it was always that, or it began with that. Most of the staff had been made aware of the circumstances in the while he and Misery still attended Hogwarts as students. It was the same in regards of his younger cousins, Shadow and Mystery. Eleonora can’t have known of course, not unless another professor had informed her. “There is a less known fact that may need to come to light,” though he still wished not as many students had learned about him, he supposed it can’t have been helped. “It has to do with our- with my taking of blood.” The look in his eyes may have become slightly sharper. “Most of my clan has adopted the way of taking in Donors. Those who had the gift of witchcraft made up a spell to connect a Donor to their vampire, allowing us to have access to their blood even on long distances. What we use are crystal vials; they help transfer the liquid when we have need of it.”

His lips tugged into a pale smile, one of troubling words he needed have spoken, but also of relief that she knew him and still stayed with him. “Thank you. There are not many people who worry about me these days.” Not that he minded it terribly, but it did get a bit lonely sometimes.

The music in the hall was still whispering into the courtyard as the two figures danced in the night. Eleonora listened to Sorrow's explanation and answer with eyes brimming in care. For her this was a step in the right direction. Someone was confiding in her, and she was there to listen. The words he spoke were laced with struggle and history yet he was sharing them with her. Eleonora had almost forgotten what that had felt like. Maybe it was possible for her to connect with others, instead of hiding away. If Sorrow could find something in her that warranted his trust then maybe there really was something there.

She looked up as she felt the soft kiss of snowflakes fall onto her face. It had started snowing. The flakes fell gently into her hair and melted as they touched the flame. The wind suddenly picked up, blowing Eleonora's fiery hair forward into Sorrow. She shivered beneath his cloak and without thinking stepped closer into his arms. She was nearly pressed against him now, his hand still resting on her waist. She gave his other hand a little squeeze as she turned her eyes into his, watching the snow hit his eyelashes before disappearing.

Her heart was thudding in her chest, he must surely feel it. Even so Eleonora felt calm in the rising snow storm. Sorrow's words about blood had not even fazed her. Of course he would need it, she was aware of that. But why did he look so pained to talk about it? Surely he couldn't think she would be judging him; Eleonora would never think less of anyone for their needs. The way he dealt with his need for the substance was new to Eleonora, though, and she was impressed with its efficiency.

“Oh, no, thank you for telling me. I was worried you'd be bothered. I'm...really glad you're not. I don't want you to think I'm being too nosy...”

Her voice was muffled by her closeness to Sorrow but there was no doubt he could hear it. She could hear her own words running through her mind over and over. No matter how hard she tried they sounded wrong. Would he be able to hear the acceptance in her voice? Eleonora hoped so, and now that he seemed to be opening up to her she wanted to continue speaking to him like this, unafraid and unrestricted.

“You're a great dancer. I haven't danced like this in years. I haven't felt-I mean...thanks, Sorrow.” Eleonora had to stop the words from flowing out of her red lips and into the breeze that would carry them to Sorrow's ears. No, this night was for her to enjoy, not for her to ruin. This perfect moment of calm pressed against Sorrow with her face flushed with cold and excitement was to be savored in her heart. Things stirred in her that had been dormant so long and she wanted to let them take their time and reach all the nerves in her shivering body.

His eyes moved up to watch the sky for snow. The shimmering flakes fell against the cold of his chin and cheeks, and just for a moment he closed his eyes, imagined a thin layer covering him like a blanket. He breathed slow and deep, as if every peaceful detail of that moment pushed through his skin and travelled his veins. It had to be a long time since he felt so at ease; and just moments before he was reluctant to approach the fire.

Now it seemed to swallow him, wrap its warmth around him as even the wind whispered that perhaps it was all right after all. Had he just been lulled into a false sense of security? The clear grey of his irises opened to see the world again, but the flame blinded him; Eleonora’s hair flowing against his eyes. It tickled his neck, as if it wished to wrap around and keep him on a leash. Was it so easy to belong to someone he hardly knew?

With her body against his she warmed him and at a slight pressure at her waist he found he had been right earlier; her body fit with his as if they had been naturally formed to stay like so. Her head fell into the gap of his neck and Sorrow let go of her hand to keep his at her back. Once upon a time he had loved a girl. Now before him stood a woman. There was something about her so exquisite that it scared him all over again; the heart he felt beating in sync with his own.

Her thanks was the last thing he heard, and her worry, as his mind fell under a violent wave of confusion. Sorrow was not certain why he could hold her with such familiarity, when really he can’t have had more knowledge of her than that of their last meeting. Was she a veela, enchanting his senses into feeling the rushed emotion? He did not think so, or surely the enchantment would have been felt sooner. Perhaps it had been, only he had not noticed? But no, surely not.

“Who are you Eleonora?” He hoped his whisper would not get lost in the hum of the wind. Slowly he detached his body from hers; and he held her at an arm’s length, grey looking deep into the blue in search of answer.

All too soon Sorrow was taking a step back and she was no longer nestled in his body. His hands were still resting on her; cool fingers wrapped around her waist as he stretched his arms forward. The snow hurried to fall in the gap between, creating a maze of white rushing to their feet. The music had quieted, or so Eleonora thought. Her ears may have been deceiving her, they may have been too focused on hearing whatever it was that the man with his hands tethering her to him was about to say.

When his words hit her Eleonora could not answer. She simply let him search her eyes in that particular way he had, laying her bare before his scrutiny. Who was she? She didn't know what to say. Who was she, really? Just a girl- no, a woman. She was just a woman struggling to find her place in the world like all the others out there before and after her. It was nothing special. She was nothing special.

But maybe...maybe she was. Eleonora had spent her life in the background and it suited her fine. As she grew older each passing day, though, she began to notice how the things she did actually mattered. They may not have mattered to others but to her, and to the creatures she cared for, they meant the world. She could look into the eyes of a beast and turn its stare to respect, even warmth. She knew how to look after those she cared so deeply for; she would do anything for the animals under her care. She was brave in her own way and intelligent in some. Those things mattered, they were special.

Eleonora's mind flashed before her all the things she always wished she could be and finally let them go under the pressure of Sorrow's eyes. She instead looked towards all the things she was. All of the small parts of her personality that formed what exactly Eleonora was were too numerous to detail, and they would not be felt. If for instance she told Sorrow she was one who could hold a new born fawn in her hands and be crushed with the love she felt for it he wouldn't feel that. She wanted him to feel what she was, not listen to who she said she was.

“I'm just...me. And you're just Sorrow, right? But...but we won't know what that means unless we care to look. I...well, I would take the time to find out who you are. If, of course...you'd let me?”

Eleonora's heart was racing as her words left her mouth. They sounded so strange and unfamiliar to her. Was it really her voice saying them? It was so much bolder than she had intended but there was something about the sparkling gray light in Sorrow's eyes that drew the feelings out of her and formed them into the words she spoke.

The snow was sticking to her hair now, no longer melting as it chilled to the temperature of the air. White dotted the red in glistening flakes that reflected the candlelight. She did not notice how her toes were numb in the piling snow or how her lips were beginning to shake involuntarily. Eleonora was too caught up in the fire that was spreading inside of her and keeping her from turning to ice in the cold night.

The images broke inside his mind, playing freely as if Eleonora had wanted him to see them. He had not invaded her thoughts, he checked himself when the colours first began; and yet he picked them off her like a message sent through a link. Would he dare learn more than just what he saw in the short flashes? Moreover, would he dare share some of him with Eleonora? He could not, surely. It was not his place to know her.

He let go of the vision before him, filling his mind with calm and gentle wind. There was no fire to conquer it as he lifted his hands away from Eleonora and took his arms to his own body; one curled into a fist that would rest at his back, the palm of other pressed over his heart and he bowed. Deeply, apologetically perhaps.

“You are correct. I am Sorrow, and that is what I must remain. The name has its one simple meaning, and it would be cruel of me to lead you deeper by the emotion it describes. Believe me, Miss Valenta, I have had thought that the name needed repair, but I was wrong. And far too many people have been hurt by knowing me.”

That perhaps he did wish to know her was irrelevant. Surely it was another of his selfish thoughts that he would have given into quickly in the past. No more. He would entertain them no more. He would know himself first before letting anyone else blindly take a ride on the downward spiral.

Sorrow straightened up, his grey eyes faraway cast into the growing night. There was a place that still held warmth for him, though snow threatened to bury it under a blanket of white. He had started towards the greenhouses, and there was where he would go. “You should head back inside, Professor.” He turned his back on her and, as he walked away, trusted the wind to carry any other word off his lips and to her ears. “Tonight shall be dark and cold; and no living being should be away from warmth.”

Just like that the cold plunged itself back into Eleonora's body as she was left alone in the falling snow. It did not escape her notice that she was no longer Eleonora, but demoted to Professor. The word stung in the rapidly cooling air, hitting her like a slap in the face. Could she had said the exact wrong thing? Her intentions had been to draw Sorrow closer to her, not to cause him hurt and force him to leave.

Eleonora shook her head to clear it as the snow stuck to her hair. How old was Sorrow again? She thought people grew out of such melodramatic mood swings, but clearly not everyone. It was terribly sad, of course, that he felt that way about himself. Part of her wanted to rush down the snowy path to him and grab his hand, force him to look back at her. She would tell him that it was ok, he shouldn't worry about hurting her or anyone else; that there had to be more to him than just a single word that was given to him at birth. But no, it wasn't her place. As much as she wanted it to be, it wasn't. So she stared after him, still standing quiet in the snow. She let words escape her shaking lips and knew that Sorrow was unlikely to hear them. “It's just a name, you know...”

His words had been right, though. It was now dreadfully cold. Still Eleonora did not want to leave the spot where she had only moments ago felt so warm. She sighed and her breath created a fine mist in the air, blowing away all her feelings. She now felt empty, relieved of all the tingling and sparks of hope she had felt in the places where Sorrow's hands had held her. It wasn't a heart wrenching feeling, but more of a dull reminder. People's hearts and thoughts were not where Eleonora belonged. She could smile and blush and laugh along with the others, but when she let herself open up and attempt something deeper...well, this is what happened.

No, it was out there in the deeply shadowed forest and mountains that she would find her kindred spirits. It didn't matter there. That was fine, really. It was fine that she didn't understand people and that it was hard for her around them. She was happy with herself right then, which was more than some people could say; namely the one she had just found herself so entranced by.

Just the memory of another's touch and closeness would be enough for her, now. A few harsh words and a turned back could not take that away. It would sustain her when she felt the freezing clutches of loneliness approach. She could play the few moments of comfort over again and let Sorrow's face and essence fade away until it wasn't him in her memories but just someone, anyone, who for a time had thought her worthy of their feelings.

Eleonora felt a smile creep onto her lips, the warmth returning as she thought back to what had just happened. She would be there and willing to be a friend or anything more if Sorrow ever had a change of heart, and she had a feeling he knew that. If she was one thing, it was patient. Until then she would go about her life and not let his sudden rejection of her do any damage. Slipping her numb feet back into her shoes, Eleonora turned from the retreating figure in the snow to the brightness of the castle. She realized a moment too late that her body was still enshrouded in Sorrow's cloak, its lingering smell still filling her senses. She would leave it in his office before he returned, perhaps with a note of apology for her boldness. As she started her walk into the school her heels tapped her pace on the stone as calmly as her heart beat had settled.